The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (25 page)

‘No, she was alone.’

‘It couldn’t have been her, James.’ Gwyn shook his head.

‘It bloody well was!’ James blurted, ‘You can ask
–’ He clamped his jaw shut.

‘Ask who?’
Dai delved, ‘Who was with you?’

James cheeks flushed crimson, but he remained silent.
Dai stepped to the side, opening the circle they stood in. ‘I’ll ask you again shall I? Who was with you? Who else saw Anwen?’

Gwyn felt the same way
Dai did, but maybe for different reasons. Anwen hadn’t mentioned stealing a van or being “in the middle of nowhere” on the phone. Why wouldn’t James say who else he was with? What had they been doing? Chasing Anwen? Trying to get her to talk? To reveal the Chosen to a nosey police officer and one of the Lost to boot?

‘What’s going on? Did you have anything to do with Anwen going missing?’ Gwyn asked gruffly
, as he stepped up to James, fists clenched.

‘I didn’t know she was missing!’ James rolled his eyes
. ‘You lot don’t tell me anything. I wonder why you bother to have a local policeman at all! It’s not as if you make use of me.’

‘Who was you with, then? Stop pratting around and just tell us.’
Dai had moved in on James too, the pair harrying him like sheepdogs.

‘I’d rather not say.’ James studied his shoes
. ‘It’s … delicate.’

‘Bugger delicate
,’ Dai pushed, ‘give me her name.’

James’ head snapped up and Gwyn raised his eyebrows. ‘How do you know it’s a she?’ James said coyly.

‘I know, James, I know,’ Dai replied mysteriously, waggling his eyebrows.

‘But how? Aren’t you angry?’ James’ eyes were wide but not as wide as Gwyn’s. D
ai’s had narrowed to two slits.

‘Why would I be angry?’
Dai asked cautiously. James hadn’t noted the danger in Dai’s voice. He seemed relieved that the cat was out of the bag and hadn’t realised his mistake.

‘Oh my god!’ Gwyn blurted, ‘You were with Ellen Richards and she’s pregnant an’ all!’

Smack, thump. James was on the floor nursing his jaw and Dai was standing over him nursing his knuckles. Gwyn didn’t think he could take much more drama, too much was going on and he felt like the whole world was unravelling into chaos.

‘I need to go.’ Gwyn excused himself from his own living room. He collected the knife he’d found, a torch and an inquisitive Bara from the kitchen and walked out of the house. ‘What do you mean, pregnant?’
Dai shouted after Gwyn, but he kept on walking.
Leave ‘em to it. It’s none of my business. I’ve got troubles of my own.

Gwyn started walking as he flashed the torch on and whistled for Bara to follow. She seemed to know where they were headed and Gwyn was content for her to take the lead. Gwyn felt mortified that he had hung up on Anwen, but it was for the best, far better for her to be out of the way until he could work out what was going on and who they could trust.

He carried on past the oak tree. Now the phone line was back on Gwyn intended to phone the hospital the moment he got back to the house to see how his father was doing. He would get better,
he would
. Gwyn whistled for Bara and she came loping out of the dark to walk at his heel. He was surprised that he couldn’t see any other torches, any sign that people were out searching for Nerys and Anwen. Then it clicked into place: Dai would have already told the Druids where Anwen had last been seen. They would be concentrating their search in the hills above Betws yn Rhos, but if Anwen had stolen James’ van, then it was probably in Chester, although Gwyn would be surprised if she’d made it that far driving as she’d never had a driving lesson.

Gwyn pulled up short. He’d reached the edge of the forest. His torc
h beam didn’t penetrate too far into the dense trees and what he could see in the torchlight looked ominous and hostile. Bara wagged her tail and looked up at Gwyn. She at least didn’t seem too bothered about entering the forest, and so with a deep breath Gwyn plunged between the branches and let the forest envelop him.

He had no idea where he was going, but he knew what he was looking for: a solitary standing stone hidden somewhere between the trees. Bara’s nose was to the ground, sniffing and snorting,
zigzagging left and right, but heading in one general direction. Gwyn followed her lead once again, hoping Bara knew where they were going.

Gwyn swung his torch ahead of him in an arc and back down to the ground in front of his feet. It was heavy going traversing through the forest, stepping over roots and boulders, pushing branches out of his way while trying to keep an eye on Bar
a. Gwyn wondered whether he should have waited until morning. The forest was quiet, dark and foreboding and Gwyn kept forcing down moments of panic that threatened to send him running home like a startled child, it was only his stubborn streak that kept him moving towards his goal.

Bara sat down in a clearing just ahead
. Gwyn lifted his torch and shone it on a tall slab of limestone standing proudly in the middle of the clearing. Gwyn’s stomach flip-flopped with a sudden nervousness.
What now? Where was this Awel?

Gwyn took a deep breath and walked directly up to the stone
. He walked around it, twice, and then shone his torch in every direction hoping for some indication of where Awel “
Chan-y-Bant”
would be found. He lifted his hand to his mouth and shouted, ‘Awel … Awel Chan-y-Bant … Awel Ddu?’ He spun around, calling out to the forest, ‘Awel?’

Bara sat patiently, her tongue lolling to one side watching Gwyn as he paced up and down, pointing his torchlight into the surrounding trees. Finally he sat down next to Bara and wrapped his arm around her
. ‘What now?’ he asked her, ‘Where is she?’

A sudden blinding flash filled the clearing and when Gwyn could see again his eyes focused on an annoyed female Bwy Hir. ‘Awel
Chan-y-Bant?’ he stammered. He’d never seen a Bwy Hir before and he hadn’t realised they would look so … divine.

Awel pursed her lips as she studied her visitors. ‘Gwyn
Morgan of Ty Mawr?’ He nodded. ‘And Bara, how are you my friend?’ Bara ran to greet Awel, an affable ball of happiness. Gwyn got to his feet, feeling unsure of himself and not knowing exactly what to do.
Should I bow or something?

Awel’s head shot up. She motioned for Gwyn to come towards her. ‘Hold Bara
,’ she whispered, as her head swung from side to side as if trying to pin down a distant noise. He leant down and grabbed Bara’s collar as he felt Awel’s touch on his arm.

A blue-white light flashed through his brain, he was temporarily blind and was suddenly overcome with a terrible dragging sensation, akin to the descent of a rollercoaster. He felt
as though he was being drawn out, stretched and pulled. An awful keening sound ripped at his ears, it was like being caught in a whirlwind, like being thrown into a waterfall and just at the point where he thought he might actually be physically pulled apart the sensation abruptly stopped. His legs gave way and he crashed to the floor. He lay there in a crumpled heap, his chest heaving as Bara licked his face.

Opening one eye he had a sideways view of Bara’s happy face and beyond that, Awel’s feet. ‘What did you do?’ he slurred, his head still spinning.

‘I might have just saved your skin,’ Awel replied calmly.

‘Or ripped it off!’ he heaved. ‘Is it still there? Have I been skinned alive?’ He felt drunk.

‘No,’ Awel answered conversationally, ‘you are still in one piece. We are also far enough away from Ty Mawr that we may speak together without discovery.’

Gwyn rolled onto his side, his skin on fire, his head pounded and he felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t focus, his mind was spinning, there were so many questions, so much to say, but he couldn’t summon the words.

Awel waited patiently for Gwyn to compose himself. Perhaps bringing him through the Cerdd Carega had been a mistake but she had smelt the sulphurous stink of approaching Helgi and had no choice. She didn’t know whether she could trust any of the Druids, especially after her recent discovery: the Chosen were being targeted, she didn’t understand why or by whose hand, but after the recent events she felt compelled to protect this boy and what was left of his family.

‘Who sent you? How did you know where to find me?’ Awel asked as he took a seat on the damp grass and looked out to the new vista.

‘Dad said your name and Dai Jones told me where to find you,’ Gwyn mumbled as he tried to sit up straight. He flicked his torch into life, letting it rest on the grass and covering Awel and himself with light. Awel shivered as she viewed the filthy Lost invention: unnatural, all plastic and metal, the meagre power emitting from the thing made her feel queasy.

Wait, what had the boy said?
‘Your father is well, he is awake?’ Awel leaned forward, stretching her hand out towards the boy, but he shrank back. ‘I will not harm you.’ She was taken aback by Gwyn’s mistrust.

‘No
, Dad’s not awake yet.’ Gwyn shuffled back a bit further. ‘Did you hurt him?’

‘I would never hurt your father.’ Her voice was calm, quiet and Gwyn felt he should believe her.

‘Who did then?’ Gwyn shot back.

‘Your father will wake, Gwyn Morgan. Be more concerned about your sister.’

‘You know my sister?’ It was Gwyn’s turn to lean forward.

‘No, but I do know your aunt, Nerys. It was I who sent her to you … I also knew your mother and your grandmothers before her. Do you know where your sister is?’ Awel sat very still. She didn’t want to panic the boy now that he was beginning to talk.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Gwyn asked suspiciously.

‘I don’t. I was asking whether you wanted to know.’ Awel raised the corners of her mouth.

‘You know where she is?’ Gwyn asked incredulously, ‘Do you know where Nerys is too?’

Awel frowned. ‘No. I’d hoped she would be with Anwen, but … Anwen is alone.’

Gwyn sighed. He could see Awel was genuinely concerned for Nerys. ‘I spoke with Anwen
… she’s in Chester. I had to cut the conversation … the lights dimmed, I didn’t want them knowing where she was … Nerys isn’t with her, she’s still missing. I think she’s dead.’

Awel lifted her eyes to the stars. She felt
as though she was to blame for all the Morgan’s troubles. If she hadn’t intervened during Anwen’s birth she wondered whether any of this would have happened. ‘Anwen is safe for now, although any place would have been better than Caerlleon.’ Awel waved away Gwyn’s unspoken question. ‘She will not be found by Helgi or Druid, not unless she walks directly in their path. Nerys on the other hand …’ Awel turned to Gwyn. ‘I fear for Nerys.’

Gwyn swallowed bile as he put his hand in his pocket
. Awel followed his actions as he withdrew the knife and held it out to her in his open palm. ‘I found this in the kitchen. I’ve never seen it before, but it has blood on it.’

Awel studied the knife but did not touch it
. She recognised the knife. ‘It belongs to your aunt.’

‘How do you know? It could belong to anyone.’ Gwyn lifted the knife away from Bara’s curious nose.

‘It belongs to your aunt.’ Awel was adamant. ‘Tell me what happened, Gwyn Morgan, in your own words.’

Gwyn gathered his thoughts and began to tell Awel everything that had happened from the moment he walked into the house when his father and Anwen had been arguing. He kept eye contact with Awel
. He held nothing back – he needed someone to unburden himself onto. ‘... and Nerys told Anwen to run,’ he concluded, ‘a Druid was in our house, fighting with Nerys and there’s this bloody knife.’ He looked to where he had deposited the pocket knife on the grass between himself and Awel.

Awel remained silent for a long time, she stared up at the stars, followed the track of wispy clouds as
they passed in front of the moon. When she finally began to speak, her voice was hushed, a dreamy cast to her face enthralled Gwyn and he hung on every word.

‘A T
riskele is a fragile thing, Gwyn Morgan, a perfect Triskele demands balance, each point equally poised to allow regeneration and continuation of the eternal cycle … three is the number of divine perfection: earth, sun and moon; mind, body and spirit; birth, death and rebirth; past, present and future. A Triskele can only endure when the three parts are strong, cohesive, united, each branch giving strength to the other … if one branch fails, the Triskele is shattered; chaos and destruction ensues, there will be no victors, no champions, only victims and casualties bearing final witness to the death of an ancient divinity, the final deathblow not only to the Bwy Hir, but to the very land itself, your people, the knowledge, harmony and balance that keeps these fertile lands alive.’

‘
I have seen the ways of the Lost, I have stood on the borders of your cities and seen with my own eyes how the land is raped, scared and plundered. Built upon, desecrated, destroyed until nature has no home; the balance is lost, and so too are the people … We: the Triskele, hold the balance here in the hills and valleys of Cymru, we are one with the earth, the rivers, the skies. The Chosen farm these lands, the Druids protect it from the purchase and plunder from the Lost. We – the Bwy Hir keep nature balanced, ensure that every tree, bush and blade of grass, every bird and animal, every Chosen family is in harmony with the other. We allow nature to flourish here, we protect the Father’s creation.’